Greetings from Hilda Lolly in 2014. Firstly, an apology. I’ve been neglecting my website of late, and I’m pleased to say there’s only one reason why: I’ve gone off the colour. I know it might sound trivial, but I’ve been staring at it weekly for a dash over three years and I’m rightfully sick of it. Anyway, I’ve got people in black polo necks looking into it. I’ve seen a couple of “mood boards” and I’m reasonably happy. They’re proposing a greenish sort of duck egg, which I think looks a bit bathroomy but I’m not saying anything. I’ll let you know how it’s coming along in due course.

Life in Islington continues very much the same as always. Oh, I’ve taken to wearing a sporran around the house, which is novel, even for me. Well, I was forever putting things down and losing them, so I thought to myself No, Hilda. I know you’re not even remotely Scottish but needs must. It’s actually very handy although I went for the traditional horsehair, which was a mistake because I’m forever getting it trapped in the bureau drawer. Plus, at a glance, it really looks like I’ve let myself go “downstairs”. Luckily I’ve only forgotten to de-sporran the once when I popped down to my local convenience store. Hardip’s face was a picture. She literally flew from behind the counter with a half read Sun. I laughed. I said, ‘It’s all right, Hardip – it’s not Hilda hair, it’s horsehair,’ but she was too busy shielding me from the rest of the shoppers to catch on.

My great aunt still holds onto life like a puffin with a sand eel. I’ve actually lost track of how old she is. I know she remembers when most trees were saplings, so that gives you some idea. She keeps a gentleman friend at arm’s length and has done for nearly two years now. He’s American and generous with it. He’s currently moored off the coast of Miami in his enormous yacht. I’ve seen pictures; it’s all potted ferns and wood panelling which is absolutely up my alley. We’ve been invited on-board several times, but I once saw a documentary about albatrosses that eat plastic flotsam in error and it’s sort of put me off boats a bit. Of course, Granty won’t go without me, mainly for lavatorial reasons. She needs continuous assistance nowadays, and even if I am just spooling Cushelle she likes to know I’m close by. Thank God for antibacterial hand gel. I keep a small bottle in the sporran so it’s no real chore.

My postbag is bulging beyond belief and I’m sorry I’ve not tackled any of your problems since last autumn. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, it’s just that I couldn’t be bothered. I’ve plucked one out at random, so apologies if it’s not yours. It comes from a lady in Crewe and I think the last time I went there I saw Barbara Knox opening a Normid. I’ll take a stab at ’87...

Dear Hilda,

I work as an administrative assistant in a large civil engineering firm. I am a slightly more mature single woman, and have several younger girls working under me. My problem sounds very silly, I know, but I am dreading the return to work after the (admittedly generous) holiday break. Not because of work (I love my job!), but because these young girls will ask me, as soon as I am back at my desk, what my new year's resolutions are. Hilda, I am not perfect, but I am of an age where I accept my imperfections, and frankly can't be bothered to pretend to try to improve on a character that is, in fact, pretty much set in stone. How can I respond to undoubtedly well-meaning but intrusive inquiries as to how I intend to become a better person in 2014?

Sincerely yours,
Doesn't Smoke, But Refuses to Give Up Chocolate

Of course, I was delighted to help…

Dear whatever it was,

Let me start this reply with a few of my own resolutions from times gone by. I think you’ll enjoy them. Now, last year’s was to avoid wearing man made fibres and I must say I’ve stuck to it rigidly. Well, semi-rigidly. There was that one polyester blouse I couldn’t resist. Dolphin print. I love mammals; always have. The year previous it was to be more tolerant of pigeons. I’m sort of the opposite of the ‘Tuppence-a-Bag’ woman. I’ve never liked them, and I used to picture myself batting them off the pavement with the hook of my brolly, Nick Faldo-style. (Don’t worry, I never did). Well I’m a changed woman now. I actually helped one poor wretch get chewing gum of its talon last summer, so that was moment of reflection. What I’m getting at is that resolutions come in all shapes and sizes. They don’t need to be momentous, and if I’m being frank, they don’t actually need to be stuck to. It’s all a load of rubbish. Anyway, if you still can’t be bothered to think of anything, something like “I’m going to be slightly more charitable” or “I’m taking recycling more seriously” is usually enough to get an indifferent shrug out of most enquiring types. In any event, it’ll all be forgotten about this time next week so there’s no point worrying about it. Happy new year to you!